


hypothesis

by faerieflame



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Science Experiments, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, and this science stuff isnt her thing, i felt sad writing this so, jumps around quite a bit, lucretias definitely a humanities major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerieflame/pseuds/faerieflame
Summary: noun, a supposition or proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence as a starting point for further investigation.what they're doing is nothing more than a botched science experiment.





	hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is heavily inspired by the comment thread i had with the author of [this fic.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067791) lucretia meta always gets me and writing down the thought, "the relics were a hypothesis and cycle 99 was a failed experiment" really made me think.

Cauldrons and the scent of sweet—sickly so—sugar fills the air. Taako’s humming to old Sun elf songs as he bakes. It’s odd. This shouldn’t feel _sweet_ in any capacity. Lucretia grips the white oak staff in her dark hands and looks off to the horizon pensively. Lup, beautiful, wonderful, smart, caring, calculating Lup, finished first. The gauntlet is copper with lines of what look like active magma flowing through the metal. It’s beautiful.

It shouldn’t be beautiful.

Barry’s bell is small. Black metal with small silver decorations, it doesn’t look like the kind of item that could rip the souls of creatures out of their bodies and yet it can. Magnus’s golden, bedazzled cup isn’t… terribly destructive. It can make time bubbles, control the flow of time itself. Divination magic isn’t an offensive magic so Lucretia has hopes that at least two out of seven relics won’t cause too much trouble. Taako’s stone is… well, a stone. Merle’s taken a belt with sticks and small flower petals on the fabric, and Davenport has an ornate silver monocle with a gold outline.

So very beautiful. Lucretia’s hold on her staff tightens.

“I’m done!” Lup cheers, a seventh of the Light of Creation in her gauntlet. She slips it on her hand, moves her fingers, and grins. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You go next, Barold!”

 

* * *

 

The world with a purple sky and two suns is—was called Ophedell. It was a realm of logic and prosperity. Magic ran wild, of course it did, but it wasn’t the primary force that ran advancements. Lucretia’s mother was a professor at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Lucretia’s father was an author for a plethora of biology, chemistry, and physics textbooks that the IPRE used in their science courses.

Lucretia opted out of the scientific route for the sake of _legacy._ However, she did follow in her father’s footsteps to at least some regard. She was an author as well. She liked writing anything and everything, from fiction to biographies. Lucretia liked to know what happened. She was a journalist, a world creator, a storyteller, a reporter, an _author._ She created narratives and did as she pleased.

Ophedell treasured science.

Lucretia was never a scientist, but under the pressure of her mother, she applied for the IPRE at sixteen years old. Unsurprisingly, she got in. Lucretia never had a great interest in science, but magic fascinated her. The IPRE was full of wizards and sorcerers and warlocks and clerics; arcane foci and holy symbols and sigils and power words—

—One concept caught Lucretia’s eye. An instrument as an arcane focus.

Her eyes went to her quill.

A smile curled at Lucretia’s lips.

She later discovered that what she was called was a _bard._

 

* * *

 

Lucretia is not much of scientist. She does not recall her basic courses on the _scientific method_ but she does remember one word: hypothesis. A hypothesis, a noun, a supposition or proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence as a starting point for further investigation.

She is not much of scientist but she can tell whatever Lup and Barry are planning for this cycle with these magic items is very much a science experiment. They’re testing out a hypothesis and this world is _not_ a controlled environment.

In the early quarter of their journey, Lucretia remembers making a promise. A promise to never sacrifice a world just to thwart the Hunger.

She feels the promise wither away as her oak staff, the _Bulwark Staff,_ fills with white light and calls her name.

 

Lucretia is a bard. She’s an artist, a writer, a storyteller. She is a lonely journal-keeper with notes upon notes, entries upon entries, all detailing the work done over the course of ninety-nine years. She is not a scientist. She flourished in the Legato Conservatory whereas her more scientific peers faltered.

But damn if she didn’t study in a scientific academy for two years.

She looks at Fisher, looks at her journals, remembers the taste of the ichor from cycle forty-seven, remembers the question of static from cycle eighty-four and begins to form a question.

 

* * *

 

_Why do the others tell me I sound like static when I hum songs from Legato?_

_data:_  

  * _fisher ( ~~spectral galaxy~~ cosmic jellyfish that consumes memories — ~~memoryeater jellyvoid~~ voidfish?) eats information and erases it from people’s minds_


  * _if the information (_ ~~ _art?_~~ _s_ ~~ _acrifice?_ _whatever they did_~~ _INFORMATION) was “good enough,” the voidfish would project the memory of the artwork into the minds of everyone. anything deemed unworthy would be forever consumed._


  * _i remember art that was consumed but not projected. everyone else doesn’t._


  * _i got hit in the face with some of fisher’s… water? and swallowed some of it?_


  * _note: water fisher swims does not look clear. looks dark, swirling, but also glowy._ ~~ _likely_~~ _definitely not just water._


  * _no one else got hit with fisher’s water._


  * _inoculation sounds better than “got hit with.”_


  * _barry (in lich form) could hear me, but when i hum these songs when he is in his human body he cant hear them_



 

_hypothesis: consuming the voidfish water = remembering. dead are unaffected._

 

On cycle eighty-six Lucretia decides to test out her hypothesis. She goes to Magnus and has him read a book about an animal only native to this plane. After he finishes, Magnus swears up and down he could write an essay on the animal. Then she goes to the lich body of Lup and has her read it as well. She sighs and protests and makes a big deal, but she does read the book with little actual qualms.

She feeds the book to Fisher later that night.

In the morning, while the twins are poking around Merle’s garden and Barry and Davenport are in the front of the Starblaster, Lucretia asks Magnus, “so what do you remember about that book you read?”

Magnus frowns. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “I… don’t remember.”

Later, to Lup: “What do you remember about that book?”

Lup rolls her spectral eyes. “The one on air bison anatomy?”

 

_hypothesis: consuming the voidfish water = remembering. dead are unaffected._

_notes: i am... hesitant… to feed the crew any of fisher’s ~~bathtub mead~~ tank water. i’ll hold off on feeding them any. _

_experiment: i present myself, magnus, and lup with a book on anatomy from an animal native only to this plane. after we’ve read the book, i will feed it to fisher. then i’ll see if any of us remember it. lup is in her lich form._

_analysis:_

  * _myself (alive, inoculated) magnus (alive, not inoculated) and lup (dead, not inoculated) both read the same book._


  * _book was fed to fisher_


  * _magnus forgot. lup remembered._


  * _i still remember and i’ve consumed voidfish water—been inoculated._


  * _after the cycle, when lup ~~respawned~~ came back, she didn’t remember, either._



_conclusion: i was right. consuming the voidfish water = remembering. dead are unaffected._

  * _if the dead is resurrected then they forget again._



 

 

Even after her voidfish experiments, Lucretia still doesn’t consider herself much of a scientist.

 

* * *

 

Magnus understands. Where Lucretia is an artist, Davenport, Barry, and Lup are scientists, and Merle and Taako straddle the line between the two, Magnus is an outlier. He does woodwork but he says “it doesn’t count.” Magnus isn’t as calculated as his crewmates but Lucretia loves him all the same. He’s wild and rushes into what he can, swinging his axe with a determined motion with the words _protect protect protect_ slamming against his skull.

“I ignored those courses, honestly,” Magnus admits to the ceiling as Lucretia paints the sunset on cycle ninety-three. “I can barely remember home now. There wasn’t much of one for me, but… you know.”

“Not everyone has a photographic memory,” Lucretia says softly. She looks back at who she considers to be an older brother. “Mags, what do you think about the relics plan?”

Magnus pauses. “I… want to protect people,” he says. “I don’t think the relics are going to do that. You know, we’ve lived a really long time for humans. We should be all wrinkly and silver and shit. I don’t think that’s necessarily made us _wiser_ but I do think it’s made us more… sensible. People are selfish, Luce. There’s no way people aren’t going to kill each other for a piece of the Light of Creation.”

“I still want to cast a beefed Shield of Faith around the plane,” Lucretia looks to the sun and squints. The light burns her coronas but she doesn’t look away. “But that’ll run the plane dry, according to Barry.”

Magnus shrugs. “I don’t get the science shit. I think they’re treating this like it’s another experiment. The relics are an experiment, the shield would be another one. They’re testin’ out variables or whatever. Trust me, if I could, I would punch this John son-of-a-bitch somewhere near cycle thirty-five. Remember that shitty ice world? Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lucretia looks away from the sun. Her eyes tingle but she just stares intently at her canvas. “I want to protect people, too.”

 

But gods above, if Lup isn’t one hell of a scientist.

Lup is everything and more. Every time Istus’s bonds weave them back to how they were when they left Ophedell, her hair is colored cocoa brown. Most cycles, she immediately dyes it golden blonde to match Taako’s, but this cycle she hasn’t. Cycle ninety-three is pretty damn similar to Ophedell, but they don’t locate the light for months. This makes it so that they can’t hatch the relic plan here.

Lucretia’s okay with that.

The Starblaster’s landed in a field neighboring a swampy creek—but no one calls it that, everyone calls it a crick. Not just _a crick,_ the Crick. Lucretia’s writing down everything she can about this world.

Lup and Lucretia are walking on the outskirts of the thick Living Forest populated with Ents when a gnome riding a carriage waves a hand. “Hello!” the gnome calls out. “Need any items? I got some pretty _killer_ deals!”

The two exchange a look at the gnome. “Sure, hit us,” Lup drawls.

The gnome raises an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a high elf step near the Crick.”

Lup smiles. “I’m not from Bahumia.”

“You from Gladeholm, then?”

“Nope,” Lup pops the P. “What do you got?”

The gnome digs through a bag. “I’ve got healing potions, I’ve got a deck of cards of many things, I’ve got this real fancy book—”

Lucretia looks at the cards with wide eyes. Her mom owned a deck of many things as a collector item. She was banned from drawing from the deck. Lup looks at the deck as well and grins. Lucretia feels dread crawl up her throat. Being ripped from reality after reality makes people really reckless.

“I’ll draw two cards,” Lup announces. Lucretia’s jaw drops. The gnome grins wickedly and nods. Lup shuts her eyes and pulls out two cards. The gnome looks disappointed.

“The Throne Card and the Comet Card,” he says, disheartened. Lucretia mentally frowns but she supposes it makes sense. She should be happy, those are good cards to get, but she’s a bit pissed at Lup. “Miss…?”

“Lup.”

“Miss Lup,” the gnome says. “You are now in ownership of a keep in Bahumia. It’s been overrun with monsters and it’s up to you to clean that up, but it’s yours.”

Lup claps her hands and grins. “Where is it?”

“Off near Moonstone,” the gnome waves a hand. “Used to be owned by a noble but a dragon lives there now. Plus her underlings.”

“Cool,” Lup nods. “What about the Comet card?”

The gnome sighs. “If you single-handedly defeat the next monster you fight, you’ll gain an influx of power. Anything else?”

Lucretia pauses over the book. It’s calling out to her—the cover has moving faces that look like they’re screaming, and the cover is written in Infernal. Lucretia purses her lips. “No, we’re good.”

The gnome waves goodbye and continues onward. Once he’s out of earshot, Lucretia turns to Lup furiously. “Lup,” she grits her teeth. “What were you thinking?”

Lup waves her own hand flippantly. “I was testing a hypothesis.”

“You can’t test your life!” Lucretia hisses.

“I’m a lich! I can’t really die, Luce, you know that,” Lup shrugs. “I was testing out this luck brew, it was for science!”

Lucretia purses her lips. “You’re not normal,” Lucretia murmurs, holding Lup’s hand.

Lup smiles a bit tenderly. She cups Lucretia’s cheek and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “I know.”

Lucretia’s heart melts a bit and underneath, something glass begins to harden.

 

* * *

 

Lucretia is a writer. She knows how to build a story, how to create a narrative. She looks at her pile of journals that she’s collected and she looks at her map of Faerûn, red dots marking where the goddamn relics have struck. She solemnly adds a dot of paint over another black circle’s been added and blinks tears out of her eyes. Lup’s gone now, nothing but a letter left behind. Lup was their only chance and she’s _gone._ Lucretia wipes her messy hair out of her face and sighs.

What kind of plot twist would it be if the meek, lonely journal-keeper saved the world?

She shakes herself from the thought—and as she does so, her eyes catch Fisher in their peripheral.

She thinks back to her experiment on cycle eighty-six.

She looks back to her journals.

Lup was their only chance to right their wrongs the right way. Now Lucretia has to take this crushing guilt, this horrible act that _they did,_ and well.

What kind of plot twist would it be if the meek, lonely journal-keeper stole the guilt crushing her family and hoarded it all for herself? Or better yet, what would be the result of feeding her journals to a memory-consuming cosmic jellyfish?

She grabs her quill and gets to work. She has an experiment to perform.

 

She’s testing out a hypothesis, that’s all, Lucretia repeats to herself in her head.

The first journal plunges into Fisher’s tank.

Her shoulders feel hundreds of pounds heavier, but when Magnus barges in and doesn’t know who she is, Lucretia sobs and cries but when it’s all done, all she writes in her journal: _the experiment was successful._

**Author's Note:**

> yes cycle 86 was the avatar world. lup and taako 100% pretended to be from the spirit world and fucked with anyone they could. also, yes, cycle 93 is the naddpod world. takes place before thiala, ulfgar, & alanis did their thing. y'all should listen to not another d&d podcast (naddpod) — it has very similar taz: balance energy to it. 
> 
> i just really wanted to write at least one lucretia piece. i have a lot of feelings abt her and her being an artist and turning to a much colder, calculating Director can reflect distancing herself from her actions by saying, "it was for science!"
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading. might write a naddpod thing because there are only three fics for it!!! or another taz fic! who knows!!!


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